


Spider-Man: Into the M&M's Verse

by Femenemity (pugglemuggle)



Category: M&M's Commercials, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), TV Commercials
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugglemuggle/pseuds/Femenemity
Summary: “Let’s give a warm welcome to our guests,” the director says. “Everyone, meet the Spider-People. Spider-People, welcome to the M&M’s commercial production studio.”





	Spider-Man: Into the M&M's Verse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robustrobot (lacksley)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacksley/gifts), [SoVeryAverageMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoVeryAverageMe/gifts).



> what the fuck even is this, i hate this, please destroy me
> 
> blame SoVeryAverageMe for this one

“Cut!” 

The director waves her arm, and the room stills. Up on the set stage, two actors also pause, props poised at one another. They’re off their marks, off their script, and covered in spiderwebs. A sheepishness creeps over the actors. They lower their props.

The director stands from her chair and approaches the stage. She examines her two actors, her clipboard balanced on her arm, and then says, “I take it that the prop department did a good job on those web slingers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Yellow. The other actor—Red—smacks Yellow’s head warningly. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry that Yellow’s a little  _ slow on the uptake _ ,” Red says, shooting a glare at Yellow. He brushes some of the spiderwebs off his arm and gives the director a winning smile. “We’ll keep the web slinging on-script only.”

“That would be much appreciated,” the director replies with a smile. “After all, the more times you mess up, the more takes we’ll have to do. And I’m sure everyone here has much better places to be than filming an M&Ms superhero promo.”

She turns on her heel and sweeps back into her chair.

“Again. From the top.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the actors say in unison.

The director flips through the papers on her clipboard. They’re script pages, the edges filled with small hand-written notes scribbled around the monospace font. At the very top of each sheet next to the page number is a header with a title. The title is the same for every sheet she flips through.

“SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE M&M’S VERSE,” the title reads.

—

“We’ll have some guests on set today,” the director announces. “Let’s not waste their time.”

“Guests?” Yellow repeats. He, Red, Brown, and Green are waiting just offstage waiting for the director to start their shoot. “I don’t remember seeing any guest lines in the script.”

“Don’t get all twisted up about it,” Red says. “It’s probably just some celebrity they’ll have come in and say a couple of one-liners.”

“Like Andrew Garfield? Or Tobey Maguire?”

“Yeah. Or maybe that new kid.”

“Oh! I know that kid. Tim. Tim Holl… Holly?”

“Sure. Something like that.”

“Would you quit your gabbing?” Green says, “It’s giving me a headache.”

“Green’s right,” Brown agrees, tapping her heel against the set floor. “The director’s going to get us started soon, and I don’t want you two ruining the first take because you’re distracted.”

“Fine, fine,” says Red. “We’ll shut up.”

The first few takes go by without incident. Everyone is performing up to their usual standards—which is to say that all of them except Yellow have their lines memorized, and Yellow only needs a few hints along the way. The director seems to be in a good mood. She’s almost  _ smiling.  _ None of them have seen her smile before.

“Alright. Start the cameras rolling. I think it’s time to bring in our guests,” the director says after an hour of shooting. She nods at her assistant, who taps a button on his phone. The doors to the studio swing open, and a crew of tech operators flood in, wheeling in what looks like two enormous metal hoops with enough wiring to fly a weather balloon. 

“Wow,” says Yellow. “The prop department is definitely stepping up their game.”

Red lets out a short laugh. “No kidding.”

The tech operators wheel the equipment into the center of the set area and proceed to set up a very long and probably dangerous string of extension cords. The actors watch as they plug in cord after cord after cord, working systematically from one hoop to the other.

“It’s like the whole thing is made of outlets,” Green comments. “Why on earth does a prop need this much power?”

“Beats me,” Yellow shrugs.

After several more minutes of set-up, the crew finally steps away from the prop, standing along the perimeter of the studio. One crew member approaches the director and whispers something into her ear. The director nods.

“Power her up,” says the crew member.

A series of switches are flipped. Suddenly the studio lights dim, and a loud whirring sound fills the space. The air is filled with static strong enough for them to taste ozone. 

“What’s going on?” Green shouts.

Yellow gulps. “I—I don’t know.”

“Stay in character. They might still be filming,” Brown warns. She looks as though she’s about to say something else, but the whirring sound grows too loud to talk over. Inside the two metal hoops, electricity begins to crackle like the surface of a plasma globe, zinging from one end to the other in a hazy field. It’s bright—too bright to look at, even. One by one, the actors shield their eyes from the device as the blinding electric currents become too much to look at. The whirring crescendos. Sparks sting across their arms. All at once the noise and the light peak in an overwhelming flash of electricity and sound—and then it stops. Silence. Darkness.

Everyone in the room holds their breath.

“Did it work?” a crew member whispers.

Slowly, one by one, the overhead lights in the studio flicker back to life. As the darkness fades, all eyes in the room are drawn to the space between the two metal hoops—specifically to the small group of beings huddled in the center. Three are wearing some kind of spandex suit, one appears to be a little girl, one is wearing a trench coat, and one—is that a pig?

“Let’s give a warm welcome to our guests,” the director says. “Everyone, meet the Spider-People. Spider-People, welcome to the M&M’s commercial production studio.”

—

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Spider-People aren’t exactly up for filming after they arrive.

At least an hour is spent answering the basic questions: “Who are you?” “Where are we?” “What do you want?” The “how” questions are very intentionally ignored. Once the Spider-People stop holding the camera crew hostage, they actually do manage to get a few candid takes of the various bewildered introductions being made. The director calls it an early night.

“We have hotels booked for you during your stay,” she says with a small, tight-lipped smile. “My assistant will escort you and the rest of the acting crew.”

And so the Spider-People follow the assistant and four M&Ms to the nearby hotel.

“This isn’t really how I expected to have our reunion,” says Gwen as they enter the hotel lobby. “Thought there’d be a little more saving the world involved.”

“No kidding,” Miles agrees. “Can’t say I’m feeling very relaxed, though.”

“I had a dream like this once,” Peter B. says, his eyes still a little dazed. “Or, nightmare, actually. My food started talking to me, but I was still so  _ hungry _ , and I couldn’t help—”

“We’ll get you some room service menus once we’re up there, eh buddy?” Red interrupts quickly, his eyes darting between Peter’s face and his gut. 

The assistant takes them to the elevators and hits the “UP” button. “Your room numbers are on your key cards,” he explains. The elevator door dings and the six Spider-People are ushered inside, leaving the assistant and the four M&Ms behind. “You have my number if you need anything.”

“Wait,” Gwen says, stopping the door with her hand. “The director brought us here to film that commercial, right? So, how long are we staying here?”

“As long as it takes until the director is satisfied,” the assistant says. The elevator door shuts. The Spider-People are alone.

—

“There aren’t any M&M’s in the mini fridge,” Peni says, flopping onto her bed. “I guess that figures. It would be kind of weird if there were.”

Gwen sighs and sits cross-legged on her own bed. “You have M&Ms back in your ‘verse, huh?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. The commercials too?” 

“Yeah.” Peni shrugs. “I guess that kind of corporate marketing isn’t universe-specific.”

“Hm,” Gwen hums in agreement.

The girls’ room is  _ huge _ . The beds are king-sized and soft enough to sink into, and the bathroom has a jacuzzi big enough for  _ at least _ five people. Under better circumstances, this would be paradise. 

Instead they spend the evening flipping through channels. They lose count of the number of M&Ms commercials that they see.

—

The set lights is too bright. Miles feels a little like he did in his elementary school band performances, desperately trying to keep time on his old plastic clarinet. Everyone is watching—judging. It's a little hard to find his confidence.

"What's with the jitters, kiddo?" Peter asks, slinging his arm over Miles's shoulder. "The last time we teamed, up you were jumping off buildings like it was nothing."

"That's different," Miles mumbles. "I was being Spider-man then. Now I'm just—"

"Being Spider-man?" Gwen butts in, putting her arm over his other shoulder. 

"It's  _ different _ ," Miles says again. "I don't have to act when I'm being Spider-man! I'm just...me."

"Places everyone!" the director shouts, clapping her hands together. Gwen and Peter take their arms off Miles's shoulders and stand back to their marks. 

"You got this, Miles," Gwen says.

The director claps a second time. "Ready! 

The room stills in preparation.

"Action!"

—

"These candies are so...colorful," says Spider-Noir, examining the M&Ms in his palm. They've each been given a complimentary bag of the non-sentient version of the candies and Spider-Noir is transfixed, to say the least.

"I'm guessing you don't have these in your universe, hm?" Green says. 

Spider-Noir shakes his head. "I did bring a colorful cube back with me the last time our universes crossed—"

"He means a Rubik's cube," Miles interjects.

"But I think that might be the only thing of color I have back home."

"Well, we can give you more bags if you want," says Green. "It's no trouble."

"Could you really?"

"Sure thing.” She smirks. “It’s free product placement.”

—

"Did your props department design these?" Peni asks. She's turning the web shooter around in her hands, running her fingers over the ridges in the 3D-printed plastic. 

"Yeah, that was props," Red says. "They go pretty over the top sometimes—"

"What do you think?" Yellow asks.

"They're good." Peni pulls a tiny screwdriver out of her pocket and flips open one the web fluid compartment. "Really good, actually. I'd love to see the 3D print file. Can I chat with your props person?"

"Um. Sure," Red says. "Let me take you to the props studio..."

—

It takes them a week of shooting to get enough footage for the director to be satisfied. After the last day of filming, the spider gang immediately takes a trip to the nearest burger joint.

"So this is it, huh?" Peter says. "So much for a team reunion, huh?"

"We've been doing so much filming that we've barely had time to actually talk," Spider-Ham says. "What's new for you Spider-Folks?"

"MJ and I are back together," Peter says. The table erupts in congratulations.

"That's great," Gwen says. "All I did was dye my hair and save an office building from blowing up." 

"You decided to keep the haircut though," Miles points out. Gwen rolls here eyes, but doesn't dispute it.

"What about you, Miles?" Spider-Ham prompts. "Anything new for you?"

Miles shrugs. "Not really. Just more of the same. School. Saving people. Trying to keep my dad from finding out I'm Spider-Man."

"Ah yes. Secret identities are always a challenge," says Spider-Noir with a sage-like nod. "It's a burden all of us Spider-People must bear."

"Did you ever solve that Rubik's cube, Spider-Noir?" asks Peni.

Spider-Noir puffs out his chest a little. "Yes. I did."

And this here, tucked in a run-down burger restaurant in the middle of a strange universe—this is the reunion they needed. They stay almost until closing time just talking about their lives, about their families, about their adventures. They've missed this. Talking to someone who  _ gets it  _ never gets old.

—

"Are you guys ready?" Green asks. The portal machine is back, plugged in and ready for action. The technicians are waiting on standby to fire it up.

Miles grins. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"I wonder how long we've been gone in our own universes," Peni muses. "Then again, last time our universes seemed to run pretty much in parallel, so you never know."

"I miss my wife," Peter says. "Don't get me wrong—I love you guys—but, you know. She's my wife."

"We'll get you back soon," Brown says with a smile. Then she raises her voice to address the rest of the room. "Everyone, I think we're ready."

"Cameras!" the director announces. "Ready? Good. Fire it up."

The technicians start the machine. In no time, it's whirring to life with loud, crackling ribbons of blinding electricity. One by one, the Spider-People take the plunge. The moment they pass through the metal hoops, they disappear.

After the last Spider-Person has left, the machine is powered down, and the set crew begins to clean up. Red looks at the other M&Ms and sighs. "Another day at the office, eh guys?"

"I hear they're going to bringing in Thor next week," Green sighs. "That should be interesting."

Red makes an impressed noise. "No kidding." 

"Something about the new Avengers movie promotion, probably."

"Can't miss an opportunity like that," says Brown.

And so the M&Ms finish up their filming session and return to their hotel. Across the multiverse, the Spider-People return safely to their homes as well. The crossover event has ended.


End file.
